Chapter Text
Kirishima was glad Bakugou was finally coming out his shell when he was with him. He was glad the overly-aggressive front he put up slowly started to falter. He really, truly was. The only downside to it all was the fact that Bakugou was apparently a friendly flirt. And Kirishima had it bad for his friend. Like really, really bad.
It started when they were in the locker room once, just the two of them except for the people who were taking their time showering.
Kirishima was drying his hair, bent over while clad only in crimson boxer briefs clinging tightly to his rather nice ass (if he could say so himself,). Bakugou had passed by and fucking whistled as he lightly smacked a hand against his butt. Kirishima stopped his movements immediately. What the fuck?
“Nice view, Shitty hair.” Kirishima turned to look at his friend and was met with a shit-eating grin as the blonde cackled deviously before turning back to his own locker.
Kirishima swallowed thickly as he stared at his muscled back. What the hell just happened? Bakugou smacked his ass and - rather mockingly - complimented said butt?
Was this Bakugou’s way of showing comradeship? He knew the blonde haven’t really had much friends before, especially not someone as close as Kirishima, but surely he knew this wasn’t usual between bros? Especially not between straight bros. Well, Kirishima wasn’t straight, but Bakugou didn’t know that. Shit.
Kirishima’s suspicions were right. Bakugou did believe what he was doing was comradeship. Kirishima guesses he wasn’t wrong, it just wasn’t… ‘normal’. But he wasn’t about to tell Bakugou that. Not when he’s finally warming up. Kirishima would just have to deal with it. Even if it was slowly becoming more and more intolerable, knowing all the words and touches were just meant jokingly, despite his nightly prayers and dearest wishes they weren’t.
He was horribly ashamed of it, but Bakugou’s actions got him riled up. He was pretty sure he’d been in love with the guy since they were first years. Sudden, inescapable flirting and light touches would inevitably end up with him having to wash his hands in the middle of the night. He hated himself for it, but letting the tension pile up inside him would just lead to him doing something stupid. He’d rather he hate himself a little more every time he rubbed one out to the thought of his best friend than risk that.
So, he let Bakugou continue his affairs. Let him make comments on how he’d do great as a cam boy, let him squeeze one of his pecs in the locker rooms when no one else was around to see. (Luckily, Bakugou would keep his hands to himself when others were around.)
It was torture, sure, but he had to endure it if he wanted to keep Bakugou. An outburst would just ruin the friendship he’d worked so hard to build up. And even if his own feelings weren’t totally platonic, losing Bakugou would be the end of him.
At least, that was his motto until one faithful Friday evening.
Friday evenings were designated movie nights. They’d gather around the common room television to watch some stupid movie they’d voted for earlier on in the week. Anyone from the class were welcome, but the most frequent faces were the ones from the self proclaimed ‘Bakusquad’.
This Friday, it was some ridiculous ‘deep’ movie from the 90s with an unnecessary amount of sex scenes. (Much to Denki and Mineta’s enjoyment. The purple haired freak had showed up after he looked up the movie online and read about all the erotica in it.)
Kirishima was sat next to Bakugou on one of the green sofas. To Kirishima’s surprise, (not to his dismay, though!) Bakugou had wanted to share his crimson riot blanket.
Yet another sex scene started. Kirishima evaded his eyes from the screen, not only was it horribly awkward, but the leads were female and male so it didn’t really perk his interest.
He was staring up at the ceiling when he felt it. A warm presence on his thigh underneath the blanket. Bakugou’s hand.
He’d never done this before, neither the ‘affection’ in public or the hand on his thigh. It was both new.
Kirishima looked over at him. Bakugou was looking right back at him. He had a smirk adorning his face and when he noticed Kirishima’s attention was on him, he stuck his tongue out and crossed his eyes to mimic the ridiculous scene on the tv.
It wasn’t meant to be sexy. It shouldn’t have turned Kirishima on. Bakugou looked incredibly stupid. But the blood rushing from his face and straight down south to his dick, meant otherwise.
He hadn’t jerked off in a few days, tension had been piling up, and despite his lack of interest in the movie’s obnoxious erotica, the male lead was well sculpted, and Kirishima could admit that he appreciated that. And all of that paired up with the hand creeping up his thigh and the stupid sexy face Bakugou made, it just became too much.
He shot up from the couch, ripping the blanket off of Bakugou in order to wrap it around himself to hide the little ‘situation’ happening in his pants. He yelled out an excuse before bolting out the common room and up the stairs.
“Guess his ‘little Kiri’ liked the movie.” Denki snickered at his own comment.
“Oh shut up, you’ve had a boner since the movie started.” Mina retorted as she threw a pillow at his face.
“Mina!”
Bakugou drowned them out as the singular flying pillow evolved into a full-fledged fight.
Kirishima usually never left their movie nights early. It wasn’t like he cared much about how many hours of sleep he got on the weekends. He could always just catch up on it by sleeping in.
Did he really get an.. an- erection? It wasn’t like that was totally out the picture. They were watching a pretty raunchy movie. Shit, he regretted teasing him now.
He wanted to get up and go after him. But if he really had gotten, ya know, aroused, it was probably best to give him atleast a few more minutes before he busted his door in.
His foot shook as he waited. He managed to sit there for the grand amount of two more minutes before his patience wore thin and he left his space on the couch. He could hear Mineta saying something gross, probably about how he too got so hot he had to take care of himself. He threw someone’s sandal at the little shit’s head before prancing up the stairs.
Kirishima shut the door behind him and threw himself at his bed. His erection pulsed beneath him.
Fuck. That was close. Had he continued to sit there any longer he’s pretty sure he’d end up blowing his load into his pants untouched like some pre teen after finding their dad’s sexy mags.
He snuck a hand beneath the waistband of his sweatpants and into his boxers.
He palmed his dick and humped his hand pathetically as images of Bakugou’s stupid face filled his mind.
Then, something caught his eye. The black sweatshirt Bakugou had left in his room yesterday after their study session.
He bets it still smelt like him.
He couldn’t help himself. Any sensible thoughts he may have had didn’t manage to make their way through the thick cloud of desire fogging up his brain.
He snatched the hoodie and took a long, deep sniff.
Bakugou’s sweet smelling sweat and natural scented deodorant filled his nose. Ah, shit.
He fell back down onto his bed again and pushed his pants and undies down to rest mid thigh. He fisted his cock as he inhaled Bakugou’s scent and let it fill his every sense. He was so intoxicated with it, so lost in it that he didn’t notice his door opening before it banged against the wall.
“Oi! Shitty ha-…” Bakugou’s voice cut through his lust driven mind as it faded off when he took in the sight before him.
“…Bakugou?! Shit! Sorry- !” He nearly flopped off the bed with how fast he tried to pull his pants back up.
“Th-this isn’t what it looks like! Uh- well, I mean it is, but like-!”
“Is that my shirt?”
Kirishima thinks he stopped breathing for a moment. Fuck. In his panic-driven state he had forgotten to hide it. And for some stupid, stupid reason that probably just made him look even more suspicious, he shoved it underneath his pillow.
“W-what? N-no!” He averted his eyes everywhere, but Bakugou’s face.
“Kirishima. You don’t own a shirt like that. I forgot mine here yesterday.”
“You did? N-no way!” His last chance was lying. If that didn’t work, his friendship with Bakugou was over.
“I don’t like liars.”
He swallowed thickly. He was a fool for thinking he could lie his way out of this for even a split second. Bakugou had some kind of sixth sense for lying.
“…L-look man…” He started. He didn’t really know what it was supposed to be leading up to.
“I’m sorry. I swear.” Kirishima dragged a hand down his face and let it rest at his neck. There was no way Bakugou was forgiving him for this. He forced the tears starting to form in his tear canals away.
…
“Continue. Don’t let me stop you.”
What? What did he just say?
“…W-what?”
“You heard me, continue.”
Was this some kinda sick joke? Did Bakugou think this was a friend thing too?
“Dude! Y-you can’t just say that!”
“Why not? I’m not the one rubbing one off with his face shoved in his best buddy’s shirt.”
Kirishima felt even more guilt wash upon him.
“I’m sorry man.”
“You’ve already apologised. I get that you’re sorry, idiot.” Bakugou scowled at him.
“G-great! … s-so.. c-could you leave now?” Kirishima really hoped he’d just go. He was embarrassed enough. His boner had fully died by now, too. He really wanted to go cry his eyes out on his bathroom floor now.
“I told you to continue. It still stands.”
A new feeling started forming in his chest, slipping through the minuscule cracks between his other feelings.
Anger.
He could put up with Bakugou’s stupid flirting, his stupid touching and stupid remarks, what he could not do, on the other hand, was him downright asking him to do something so… intimate.
Bakugou wasn’t interested in him like that. He wasn’t going to get to see him so vulnerable. He wasn’t going to let him use him like that, when Bakugou just did it to - probably - humiliate him. No matter what he’d done to his stupid sweatshirt and the stupid memories of him.
“…No. I’m not fucking doing that. I’m not humiliating myself for you.” He swallowed and glared at the blonde.
“…W-what?” Bakugou looked taken aback.
“You fucking heard me. I’m sorry for what I’ve done, but I’m not putting myself through some stupid humiliation ritual for it. I’m not letting you use my feelings against me.”
“Kirishima.. I-…”
“And stop the flirting. I know you think it’s just lighthearted jokes, but it isn’t, not to me.” He was already royally fucked. May as well let it all out.
Bakugou went quiet.
“I’m sorry about all this, Bakugou. But I don’t think I can do this anymore.”
“Do what?” He snapped out of his stupid silence.
“Do you not get it? I’ve liked you since the fucking sports festival during our first year.” He wasn’t giving the bastard the ego boost of admitting he loved him.
Bakugou gulped, his eyes wide, his fists clenching and unclenching.
“If you don’t got anything to say, please leave. I want to sob into my pillow on my own.” His tear canals started opening its doors again. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to close them again.
Bakugou didn’t say a peep.
“Fine. Here’s your stupid shirt.” He threw it at Bakugou’s face.
“Get out now, please.”
Kirishima looked down at his lap. A minute of silence went by before he could hear shuffling of feet and his door opening and closing.
A sob escaped him the moment the door shut. The flood gates opened at the same time too.
His stomach ached and his bottom lip quivered uncontrollably. He just lost the most important connection in his life.
A week went by. He refused to look at Bakugou, despite the fact that he could feel his eyes on him. He’d pair up with Midoriya when they sparred. Their study sessions died out. He spent the evenings sobbing into his pillow like a heartbroken schoolgirl, which he kind of was, instead.
He thinks he heard Bakugou sobbing once, too.